


Written (With No End)

by euhemeria



Series: And, In Sign of Ancient Love, Their Plighted Hands They Join [71]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Family Dynamics, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Growing Up, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 02:54:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19242373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euhemeria/pseuds/euhemeria
Summary: Fareeha.Ana chose the name; beyond meanings, Sam had few enough opinions, and knew that it would fall to her to hear what sounded right with her last name.Fareeha,Ana suggested, meaning happiness, or one who brings joy.  This, more than anything, Sam hopes for his daughter's future: Fareeha will live up to her name.Or,A look at Sam and Fareeha's relationship, over the years.





	Written (With No End)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [binarylazarus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/binarylazarus/gifts).



> me waiting for sams ao3 tag to be updated from "fareeha amari's father" to "sam (overwatch)" so i dont damn near have a heart attack trying to tag anasam... PLEASE ao3....
> 
> also bc theres a couple mentions of it, i hc sam as deaf and the sign language used throughout most of canada is asl. neither here nor there i suppose but its a commonality throughout this fic series
> 
> & of course this work is gifted to emilia bc she & i are the only two members of the anasam fanclub. its us against the world in m/f-ville

## 0.

The first time Sam holds Fareeha, he knows what he is _supposed_ to say, has heard from other fathers, time and again, that the first time they held their child they could not believe how _small_ they were, how tiny, how fragile.  When Sam first sees Fareeha, he thinks she is small, yes, but then his daughter is placed in Ana’s arms and he thinks that, maybe, their child is not so terribly small after all.  Holding her confirms this suspicion—Fareeha is, in fact, rather _large_ for a baby, if anything.

Despite what he has heard, Sam does not worry, either, that he will drop Fareeha.  He uses his hands for everything, and knows that he can trust them, now, to hold his child, no matter how unusually large she is.  In his arms, she will be safe, he knows it.  So that characteristic new father nervousness, the unfamiliarity of holding an infant, is not in fact such a big problem for him as he has been led to believe.  Holding his daughter is as natural as anything, and he thinks that he need not worry about this.

At least the fragility he has heard about is true.  In the first few minutes after her birth, Fareeha was whisked away by doctors, needing extra tests for—something.  Sam is not sure, still, precisely what it was that necessitated such, as he and Ana forgot to request a translator ahead of time, and one who knows both Arabic and ASL is very hard to come by.  In any case she is fine, now, seems healthy enough, but the fear still lingers, the uncertainty, the doubt.  Just because his daughter _looks_ healthy does not mean that something might not have gone wrong, does not mean that she will stay healthy forever.  Hopefully, she will be.

Like most fathers, Sam does feel a surge of protectiveness, at that thought, and like most fathers, he has many dreams for her future.  Most of them are abstract, although there are a few things he does hope for.  He wants her to be tall, like he is, hopes that she will like playing basketball with him, and has maybe, _maybe_ spent more money than Ana would approve of on a pair of Baby Jordans, to reflect such.  He wants for her to have ideals similar to his own, wants her to care about injustices in the world, and work towards fixing them, wants her to feel a connection to their people, and to their homeland—and to her other homeland, too.  But more than anything, he wants for her to be happy, to live a life that is full, and to feel _safe._

 _Fareeha._ Ana chose the name; beyond meanings, he had few enough opinions, and knew that it would fall to her to hear what sounded right with her last name.  _Fareeha_ , Ana suggested, meaning happiness, or one who brings joy.

This, more than anything, he hopes: Fareeha will live up to her name.

## 2.

Ana has to go off to war, when Fareeha is just a few months old, leaves Sam behind with a tiny Fareeha, and trusts him that all will be well.  And it is, it _is_ , despite his initial worries about parenting a child alone.  He has a baby monitor watch on his wrist, which vibrates to alert him when she cries in the night, so he will wake, even when he cannot hear her, and so she is safe, at night, until she is old enough—as now she is—to open a doorknob herself, to walk into his room and wake him if she needs anything.

Lately, she needs him often.  Ana came back for a visit, as long as she could, three weeks, and now Fareeha wakes in the night terrified because of some nightmare, and she wants her mother for comfort, not him.

He understands.  Ana can comfort Fareeha in some ways he cannot, murmurs to her soothing words and sings her songs—something he himself cannot do, having never heard such things himself.  But he will do the best he can, arranges an appointment for himself and his daughter with a child psychologist, to see if that will help.

For better or for worse, he is told, his daughter does not want her mother because Ana is better at comforting her.  Apparently, when asked which of her parents she preferred when scared, Fareeha did indicate that would rather go to him—insofar as a toddler can say as much—and the problem has more to do with her anxiety over Ana’s disappearance and reappearance in her life, the inherent disruption of their lifestyle. 

Well, Sam can do nothing about that, but he can do his best to ensure that Fareeha is able to talk to her mother more often, starts taking her to playgrounds and to toddler social groups, so that she can spend time with other hearing children, can pick up English faster, and has her call her grandmother more often, too.  Ana’s mother and he do not get along, never have, she resenting the fact that Ana and he conceived Fareeha prior to marrying, and he not being particularly fond of her due to what Ana has said about her own upbringing, but at least this way, Fareeha can pick up Arabic, can continue to practice it.  Never would he want to isolate his daughter from any part of her heritage, and so this is necessary, in his opinion, and will help Fareeha to talk to her mother more.

It is an unfortunate reality, that Ana more often has a good connection for audio calls than audiovisual ones, and so he cannot speak to her as often as a hearing spouse would be able to, but him being so limited does not mean that Fareeha must be, and if she knows enough to communicate with her mother, then she can take calls on her own, can ‘speak’ to her mother insofar as she is able.

And it works.  After a few months, Fareeha is able to speak to her mother relatively easily, if his ability to read her lips is any indication, and the child psychologist he initially started seeing with her tells him to check back in in six months, but otherwise reports that, for her age, she is very well adjusted, developing just fine.

Once again, he is able to sleep through the night.

## 5.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Fareeha is a very active child, runs circles around her peers.  In theory, this is a good thing, Sam thinks, shows that she is healthy, and happy, and doing well.  However, the reality of it is slightly more complicated—being tall for her age, and strong, and active, she has trouble, sometimes, in interacting with her peers, does not know her own strength, and has to be reminded to play gently.  In and of itself, this would not be a problem, but Fareeha is evidently also articulate for her age, and all too often people assume that she is older than she is, and try to discipline her accordingly.

For Sam, it is a difficult position to be in.  Not everyone signs, after all, so he cannot always explain, before some other parent is chiding her, that she is younger than she looks, and not as coordinated as their seven-year-olds are, and really, _truly_ did not mean to hit, when playing tag, and it feels terribly unfair to her, to try and make her translate for him, explain to the other parents. 

Moreover, there is the problem of race; they live in a mostly white neighborhood, because it was close to work, for Sam, and to an international school, as he and Ana decided that such would be best for Fareeha’s education, such that after the Crisis—if, indeed, there _is_ an after the Crisis—she can continue school uninterrupted no matter which country they settle in.  For the most part, things are okay.  People where they live do not think of themselves as being prejudiced, and act accordingly, but nonetheless, he and Fareeha do stand out, with the color of their skin, and Fareeha with the slight accent she has, apparently, developed, speaking both Arabic and English. 

So people are not as kind as they could be, when interpreting Fareeha’s actions.  They see her as more violent than she is, perhaps, more volatile, and there is nothing about that Sam can do, for the most part.  He tries, of course, but he cannot remove others’ prejudices.

After a particularly rough day, he takes Fareeha home, and he sits her down, and he tries to explain the matter to her, that people see her differently than they might other children, and it is not her fault, and it is certainly not _fair_ , but that she will have to be more careful than other people, when she acts, will not be given the benefit of the doubt.  He tells her, too, that he knows she is very good, and very kind, and does not want to hurt anyone.  He tells her he loves her, and that he would not change her for the world.

Like any child, she is upset to hear this, tells him that _It’s not fair!_ , and she is right. 

 _The world,_ he tells her _, is not fair and just, but we can work to make it more so._

 _I will_ , says she, very solemnly for a small child, and then perking up asks if they can get ice cream after dinner.

## 8.

Before Fareeha was born, Ana and Sam discussed having more children, both of them having grown up in large families and wanting for her to have siblings.  Always, this is something Sam rather expected would happen, after the war, that they would have two or three more, by birth or by adoption, other children for Fareeha to play with, people to be with her throughout her life and to look out for her. 

Instead, Sam has to sit Fareeha down, at eight years old, and explain that her mother is not going to be moving back in with them, after all, that the two of them are going to be getting divorced, and after the end of this school year Fareeha is going to be living with him for the summers, and for winter holidays, and with her mother during the school year—in Switzerland, not in Egypt.

Doing so pains him.  He did not want—does not want—to be separated from his daughter, has always wanted to be as active in her life as is possible, and he loves Ana still.  But love is not enough, for everything, and they are moving in different directions, are pulled apart by their duties, their responsibilities.  Ana has decided to stay with Overwatch, now that the Crisis is over, to try and build it into something even greater.  Saving the world was not enough, she wants to ensure that it is never in danger again, and Sam understands.

He wants the world to be better for their daughter, too, it is why he cannot leave.  His work has always been representing his people, and the other First Nations, defending their rights here in Canada, and although, as Ana insists, he could continue to be a human rights lawyer elsewhere, such as in Switzerland, he knows he cannot abandon his work here.  Not until he is certain that if Fareeha ever returns, she will not have to worry about her government mistreating her.

So, because he loves Fareeha, he has to be without her, some of the time, and it is—it is not _fine_ , like he would like to say it is, for he misses her terribly, but he knows, too, that she is happy to be able to spend time with her mother at last, happy to be able to be around her heroes, at Overwatch, happy to learn a new language, living in a new country, and to try new things, so she tells him on one of their thrice weekly calls.

So long as she _stays_ happy, Sam will accept his own dissatisfaction with the arrangement.

## 11.

Somehow, all the other children have passed Fareeha by, and she is, for the first time in her life, _short._ This is among her many complaints, when she stays with him the summer of her eleventh year.  Sam tries not to take any of what she says too personally, as Ana warned him beforehand that she has been like this, lately, has entered the pre-teenage phase of angst. 

Sam thinks it is likely rather more complicated than that.  At eleven, Fareeha is just beginning to realize how very _different_ from other children she is, in many ways.  While he loves all that makes her so, he cannot imagine that it has been an easy transition for her—particularly not given that she has very recently realized she is gay.  She is young, yet, to know what that will mean for the rest of her life, but he is certain, too that already she is beginning to realize the ways in which the world is stacked against her.

So, even when she is short with him, when she complains about having to translate for him, and wishes they were a _normal_ family, he does his best to swallow his hurt.  He has been at peace, for many years, with the fact that he cannot hear, but he does find himself wishing for his daughter’s sake that their family were more conventional in any number of ways, and yes, that is one of them.  It would be nice, to be able to take her to a concert, one of the ones for the bands whose posters she has on her wall, but she insists that it would be weird, to go with him, and that she wants to be with other _fans_.

Well, fine, he understands.

Instead, he offers to take her to Pride for the first time, to be around other people like herself, where she will, hopefully, feel loved, accepted, and _normal_ —or, normal as anyone whose mother has saved the world can be.  Enthusiastically, she agrees, and she even insists that her mother fly out to spend the day with them, _as a family_ , Ana having evidently mentioned to Fareeha that she herself is bi.

Although Sam worries, in the days before, about what it will be like, to do something like that with Ana again, worries that their ability to maintain a friendship has been made easier by the considerable physical distance between them, it turns out that the day is fine, more than fine.  All three of them are happy, together, they do not fight, manage to be happy in one another’s presence, as things are.  Before Sam and Ana ever considered marriage, they were friends, and it is nice to be that way again, not only for their daughter’s sake, but for their own.

And for one good day, Fareeha and her family _fit in._

## 14.

When she is fourteen, Fareeha breaks her ankle skiing two weeks before coming to visit Sam for the summer.  For both of them, but especially for Fareeha, this is a very frustrating thing, as they like to spend time with one another outdoors, and when Sam is at work Fareeha has always entertained herself—with age appropriate supervision—by playing with the other children in the neighborhood, or her cousins, going to the nearest court to shoot hoops or to the park for a game of soccer.  Now, she cannot do that, and finds herself stuck indoors with far, far too much energy for either herself or Sam to handle.

Although Fareeha thinks herself very mature, at fourteen, Sam can see all the ways in which she is not, is still like a child, despite the fact that in the past two years she finally hit her pubescent growth spurt and is now once again very, very tall for her age—or, indeed, for a girl of any age—at 5’9.  She may think that because she is tall, and people mistake her for an adult, that she _is_ one, but still, she struggles to control her emotions, in that typical teenage way, and bores easily, like so many children do.

To say that her being cooped up inside is unpleasant for the both of them would be an understatement indeed.  Fareeha has _always_ been active, needs to be doing something in order to feel fulfilled, and while giving her books kept her occupied for the first week and a half, or so, she is a very quick reader and has already worked through most of his library, and wants to be _doing_ something tangible, besides.

So Sam does two things: first, he starts her on a hobby that will not bother her mother too much, a quiet one, teaches her to make ships in bottles, like he learned from his grandfather, and enjoys the way that, just like her mother, she both furrows her brow and wrinkles her nose when concentrating, whole face scrunching inwards.  This is a good hobby for anyone, Sam thinks, requires concentration, and patience, two things Fareeha sometimes lacks, and could stand to cultivate.

Second, he surprises her by bringing home a guitar, one afternoon.  He will be no help in teaching her, but he has seen the band posters in her room for years, now, knows that most of the music she likes seems to involve a guitar in some way.  He does not buy her lessons, just yet, because he does not know how much interest she will sustain, but he tells her he trusts that she is smart enough to teach herself, if she really wants to learn.

And she does.  Although he cannot hear her improvement, he can see on her face when she starts to really pick things up, watches her expression morph from one of intense concentration, to feeling rather accomplished.

Well, he hopes that is what her expression means, anyway.  He does not want Ana to kill him, when Fareeha brings the guitar back with her to Switzerland.

## 17.

For Fareeha, and for Sam, 17 is a difficult age.  They get along with one another well enough—perhaps have never been more aware about the things they have in common—but she has declared that she is going to enlist, after she graduates, that she intends to join the Egyptian military and from there attempt to be recruited into Overwatch. 

Although Sam himself is not sold on this idea, thinks his daughter’s talents would be far better put to use saving the world some _other_ way, and he always rather hoped she would go into law, like him, or do something else with her need to pursue justice, to make better the world in which they live, he will not fight her.  He knows, already, that Fareeha is far too stubborn to be dissuaded, and the only thing he asks of her is that she complete some sort of higher education prior to enlistment, learn some other skill.  To this, she agrees, and he, at least, is placated.  This is not what he wanted for Fareeha, but he will not stop her—cannot.

Ana, however, is completely against Fareeha enlisting, against her even _thinking_ about trying to join Overwatch, in a civilian branch or otherwise, wants Fareeha’s life to be as far from her own as possible.  This, too, Sam understands, for he saw the ways in which the Omnic Crisis changed her, watched as she became a woman so unlike her former self he scarcely recognizes her, now, save for in fleeting moments.  Neither of them wants this for their daughter, but he will not intervene.

So he tells Ana, and so he tells Fareeha.

Both of them want him to pick a side, to persuade the other that they are in the wrong, but if Sam has learned anything, in the past 17 years, it is that stubbornness runs in the Amari family, and neither of them is going to be dissuaded, so he will not try. 

What each of them do, and say, he knows is born of love for one another, and he rather thinks that by offering his opinion he will therefore only make the situation worse, and so the most he does is try to encourage both of them to talk to one another, if not to give any ground.  It does not work.

But what else can he do?  Nothing, but sit and watch as the gap between them grows, and grows, and try his hardest not to alienate himself from either of them, such that when—if—they need it, they know that they can always talk to him, and so that when they reconcile, he will be there to help them.

Or, to try to.  He makes no promises as to his efficacy, only hopes things will end for the best, and for them to be happy, again.

That is all he has ever wanted.

## 20.

Having finished secondary school a year early, Fareeha proceeded to then work relentlessly through college, and manages to finish that, too, another year early, graduating at only twenty with a degree in electrical engineering.  Sam is simultaneously proud of her, and very sad, thinks she could do any number of things with such a degree that might help the world, rather than going off to war—but that is what she has chosen for herself.

Having fulfilled her promise to him, Fareeha intends to ship out come morning, to fly to Egypt and serve in their military for as long as it takes to gain an invitation to apply to join Overwatch—a dream which, of course, Ana does not approve of in the least.

She does attend Fareeha’s graduation, Sam knows, because when he offers to get a copy of the program for her, she tells him she will be there, but he does not see her, and he does not think Fareeha does, either.  He cannot be certain, for he does not want to bring Ana up, does not want to upset Fareeha, on this day, nor hear her upset again about her falling out with her mother, during what is meant to be a celebration of what she has accomplished, but he rather suspects that his daughter is not aware of Ana’s presence.  After all, the two of them have not spoken, now, in months, ultimately severed all communication at the time Fareeha made it clear that her enlistment was _final_ , and that she would be going to boot camp immediately following her graduation.

If he thought that he could help things, by speaking to them, he would, but he has tried, now, several times in the past few months, and neither of them has been interested in reconciliation, not any time soon, seems convinced that the other party would be unwilling to talk to them entirely.

To Sam, it feels like a failure.  If he had just said something, three years ago, when they started to fight about this, _before_ they said things which badly hurt one another, maybe they might have reconciled.  If he had tried harder, maybe they would never have gotten to this point at all, would have realized that they love each other too much, and that is the real root of their problems.

But he did not.  He thought that it was not his place, and he sat back, and he watched, and now all of them pay the price for his inaction. 

When Fareeha was born, he wished her happiness, and what has she now?  He failed her, he did, he made to her one simple promise, had for her only one dream, and it is the only dream of his that she did not fulfil.

He tells her goodbye, at the airport, and does not say that he wishes he had been a better father, though it is true, tells her only that he knows she will do well, will succeed—she does in everything she tries.

To burden her with his own unhappiness would be unfair.

## 23.

Despite Sam’s fears, and Ana’s, too, Fareeha is quite happy in the military.  In fact, she excels there, rises to meet every challenge set before her and moves quickly up the ranks.  Before long, Sam suspects, she will meet the necessary criteria for Overwatch enlistment, and then—then, he thinks, things will be messy.  If it were not for the role Ana occupies, he would say that Fareeha is a shoo-in to join Overwatch, is well equipped for the role in both terms of her abilities and temperament, but that may not be enough, if her mother decides to block her application.

And what, then, will Sam do?  He does not know.  Fareeha and Ana’s relationship is, of course, his business too, because they have made it so, and also because their happiness is important to him, but what can he do?  He cannot force them to speak to one another, cannot ask them to have an open and honest discussion about what it is they are thinking and feeling, cannot even get the two of them on the same _continent_ , let alone in the same room.

He hates it, feeling so powerless, knowing that two of the people about whom he cares most in the world are hurting.  He hates, too, how it has damaged his friendship with Ana—after their divorce, the two of them remained close, remained confidantes, have been there for one another emotionally, but he cannot look at her the same, given how deeply unhappy she has made Fareeha.

In different ways, Sam loves both of them, but if he is ever really, truly, forced to choose, he knows his responsibility is to his daughter, first and foremost. 

But he wishes it will not come to that.  In their own ways, they are the most important people in his life, and even if Ana and Fareeha do stop talking, even though he divorced her years ago—Ana is still the mother of his child, there is still that always connecting them, that Fareeha is the most important person in either of their lives.  Always, he will feel a certain closeness with her.  No future can erase the fact that once, he thought that they would be in love forever.

So it will be painful, if ever he is forced to pick a side, would be the worst thing either of them could ever ask of him.

Against hope, he hopes that somehow, Fareeha’s application to Overwatch will bring she and Ana back together, because even if _she_ is happy as she is, right now, never speaking to her mother again, Sam is not, and he knows Ana is not either, and he does not want for any of them to be suffering, any longer, only wants for things to be resolved, and to be resolved well.

If not now, then someday.

## 26.

What resolution Sam hoped for between Ana and Fareeha will never come, for Ana is dead, now, and it is left to Sam to help Fareeha through her grief.  It was a sudden thing, like Sam always expected it would be, Ana went out into the field and did not come back, but still, he is not prepared, when he hears it, and if _he_ is unprepared, then surely it is worse for Fareeha, who must live with the guilt of all the tings she never said to her mother, refused to say, in those final few years.

Privately, the two of them discuss the death, and at first, he thinks, Fareeha has shut him out, too, has decided that she cannot talk to _anyone_ about all this.  It hurts him, to know that she feels so, to know that she is suffering and there is nothing he can do to help, but this time, he does not give up, he takes as much time as his job will allow him, for grief, and vacation and sick days too, stays with Fareeha, who only recently discharged from the military with the intent to join a private security firm and does not know, yet, what returning to work will look like for her, especially now.  He stays, and he waits, and he hopes that she will open up.

She does not.

She does not, she cannot, and she will not.

No matter what he tries, she is silent, does not want to talk about that, does not want him staying with her to help her go through Ana’s things, would much rather they were somewhere else, _anywhere_ else.

So he takes her to the ocean, one day, mid-week, when not too many people are around, he takes her to a pier that allows for fishing and they stand there, in silence, for hours, the sun hot on the back of his neck for the first time in years, his hair cut in mourning, and he thinks, _please, please_ , because if this does not work, then he is out of ideas, and out of time.

Ana always bottled up everything she felt, never shared any of it, and Sam watched how it destroyed her, over the years.  For his daughter, he wants better.

It is a relief, then when she breaks the silence, even if he does not like the words.

 _I hated her_ , Fareeha tells him, sets down her pole in order to form the signs.  _I hated her, or I thought I did, and I know better now, but she died thinking that.  Died knowing that the last words I said were…_ Here, her hands shake, _Were that I hated her.  And she’ll never know that I was wrong.  I can’t ever say that._

 _No,_ he tells her, _You can’t.  The past is over, now, and she’s gone.  But she knew, I think, that you loved her.  And she never stopped loving you._

Fareeha is crying, then, and he holds her, instead of saying anything more, holds her and does his best to comfort her.

What more can be done?

## 29.

Overwatch is gone now, too.  By the time all is said and done, its end feels inevitable, but Sam remembers, too, when it was new, and things were different, when it seemed Overwatch would change the world forever, and always be there. 

But it is gone, and with it, Fareeha’s dreams of ever joining the organization.

In a way, Sam knows this is another loss, for her, another thing to be mourned, and more than that, more than the death of a dream, is also the severing of one final connection she might have had with her mother, the legacy that Ana built.

Or, he imagines Fareeha must feel that way.  Certainly, it is how he feels about the whole situation, like his last connection to Ana has been lost, and she—well, he has less right to feel a connection like that to her than Fareeha does, he thinks, no matter how distant the two of them were, in the end. 

Ana was Fareeha’s mother, and now she is gone, and it falls to Sam to be parent enough for the both of them, at difficult times like this.

It is hard.  He and Ana hardly ever truly co-parented, did so from different continents, rather than living together, and so he cannot always conjure in his mind what she would have said to Fareeha, at times like this, as much as he wishes he could.  Although he has never thought his own parenting to be inadequate, or at least, not inferior to Ana’s, or any less involved, he does worry that there were some roles in Fareeha’s life Ana fulfilled that he never has.

Some of those roles, Fareeha might feel she is better off without; Ana always was the nosy parent, the one who pried, found things out about Fareeha’s dating life, and told them to Sam, who did not much care so long as Fareeha was happy, healthy, and safe. 

But in some ways, Fareeha and Ana had an understanding of one another Sam feels he lacks.  They are different sort of people, he and his daughter, have different goals and ways of expressing themselves, and that is all well and good, but he wishes he knew better what to say to her, sometimes.

What does he know of war?  What does he know of the sacrifices Fareeha has made, in her life, the things she has seen and the things she has done?  How can he possibly understand?

If Ana were here—she could.  She would know all that Fareeha would have been willing to do, for Overwatch, and would be able to say at least _something_ about its loss, about what it symbolized for her and for Fareeha.

Not Sam.  He is sad, for Fareeha and Ana’s sake, to see Overwatch gone, but he will not mourn it.

When Fareeha moves on, she will be happier.

## 32.

Overwatch is back, Fareeha has told him.  It is not _legal,_ strictly speaking, is not official, but there is a Recall, and through Ana’s old comm, Fareeha has received it.  She is so very, very happy and Sam cannot possibly be.

It scares him, to think of her in Overwatch, scares him to imagine that she will tread the same path as her mother.  Of course, he does not try to stop her, knows better than to do so, always has, and he does not tell her he disapproves, either, does not tell her of his fears, for what would be the point?  What he tells her is this, only: be safe.

What more could he possibly ask of her?  He knows she will be happy, with them, at least at first—or, rather, that she would be more unhappy to refuse, to let this opportunity pass her by, would spend her whole life wondering what might have been different, had she said yes.  As he does not wish that for her, does not want her to live her life full of regrets, full of _what ifs_ , full of the guilt of knowing that she might have done something differently, once, but it is too late now, to fix things, he has to accept that she will go.

And she does, she does, and she calls him, once a week, or two, to tell him about everything that is happening, in this new organization, or as much of it as she can, and every time she does, there is a smile on her face.  At first he worried that it would fade, that she, like her mother, would be more and more withdrawn, over time, that Overwatch would hurt her, that it would use her up and spit her out, and that he would have to be there to pick up the pieces when that happened, like Ana would not let him be, but that does not seem to be the case.

Fareeha is not her mother, she never has been, is a person all her own.  Sam knows this, has known this, but the longer she is with Overwatch the more apparent it becomes, as fall turns to winter, to spring, to summer, and she has been with them for nearly a year, already, and seems just as happy as before.

Happier, in fact.  In Overwatch she has people for whom she cares, people whom she cares for, would die for—and someone who will be there to make sure that never does come to pass.  With Overwatch Fareeha is loved, is safe, is _home_ , is among people like herself, so different from anyone else, who care only to see that they make the world they live in a better, more just place. 

Fareeha is happy, now, and Sam will not complain, even if he worries, every day, about her safety, is always afraid that the next call will be to tell him that she is never coming home again.

Fareeha is happy.  It is all he has ever wanted for her.

**Author's Note:**

> in conclusion, happy fathers day... my own dad sucks but not all dads do. theoretically. and i think sam is probably canonically a good dad since 1) fareeha is trying to get ana to tell him shes alive 2) fareeha goes and visits him every winter 3) they still do dorky things like wearing matching father-daughter outfits LKAJSDKFLSDFAFD and 4) whatever went down between ana and sam, theres no animosity there--ana says she wont get back into contact w him bc shes done enough to hurt him already, rather than thinking anything negative abt him. all im saying is if ur ex and your grown child both like u, ur probably a good person
> 
> also fareeha is canonically a big baby like anas uprising spray? thats toddler size. definitely makes one understand why fareeha was an only child
> 
> anyway i hope u all have good dads but if u dont, well, same
> 
> lmk ur thoughts if u have any <3


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